Devil's Backbone
by Skye Grace
Summary: AU. Takes place in early America, shortly before the Civil War. Dean has a horrible disease, and the villagers of his home village decide that drastic measures must be taken to prevent the disease from spreading. Can Dean spare his family the sight of his disease, or will he fall before their eyes?


**This fic is totally AU. It has no relation to any other stories I have written or ever will write, I think. This idea came about listening to the song "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars. Love the song, and this idea just magically appeared after listening to the song. **

**I own nothing. I hope you enjoy the way I twisted time and characters to form my own little world of angst. **

* * *

**Devil's Backbone**

A cold wind blew through the large camp, blowing tent flaps open and moving small objects. But nobody was inside any of the tents that littered the camp area.

In the center of the camp, a large platform was being constructed. There was a hole in the center of the floor, with wooden steps leading up the outside edge of the platform. A group of men was working on attaching a door over the hole. A separate group of men were pounding together a large upright with a horizontal arm attached to it. The rest of the camp occupants stood in a large circle, watching as the construction finally came to close, the newly built gallows standing high above the crowd. The last piece to be added was the rope, twisted neatly into a hangman's noose.

As the sun began to set, the people disappeared into the shelter of their tents, protected by various wards and sigils surrounding each tent. Silence blanketed the camp as darkness swallowed the landscape, keeping even the crickets and night birds quiet.

A shrill howl cut through the darkness. People cowered inside their tents, praying for the morning to come. The howl came again, this time closer to a tent with small children inside. Sniffing was heard, a ghostly shadow flickering across the canvas.

Heavy footsteps walked around each tent, waiting for someone to leave the safety of their canvas structure. Finally, a victim emerged, panicked and fearful. His eyes were wide, filled with terror, and his legs shook as he struggled to stay upright and steady.

"Please, please. You don't want to do this. I swear. I have a family to take care of. You have a family yourself! Why did you let this happen to yourself? You were supposed to be the one to save us. Why did you turn on us?" The man whimpered, talking to the blackness. He could feel the intense white-gold eyes of the beast on him. He swallowed hard, still muttering into the dark.

The beast lay in wait, hidden in the black of the night. His midnight fur helped him blend into the shadows even better. His eyes were the same color as a gold coin buried under a layer of frosted ice. So pale, they looked white from a distance, but with gold streaks centering on his pupil. He looked like a creature of Hell, and thus, the people in the camp assumed he was.

There was no help whatsoever in finding a cure to his disease. He had simply been bitten one night on guard during the evacuation of the old village. With the threat of a war hanging over the new country, the villagers assumed the rebels had used some sort of witch to conjure up a Hell creature, and therefore the creature must be destroyed.

Instead of watching the frightened man, the beast crept towards the tent where he could sense his wife and children laying. His wife was awake, he could hear her heartbeat was going faster than if she was sleeping. The three children were sleeping fitfully.

The tent flap opened quietly, a single lamp illuminating the face of the beast. His fur was black, with fur-covered ears sitting on his great head. He looked like any other wolf the villagers encountered, except he was twice the size. He whined, a low sound that made his wife's eyes water in pain.

"You shouldn't be here, darling. If they find you, they will kill you now. You can still make it, if you hurry. There is still time." She hissed, bright blue eyes filled to the brim in tears. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a loose, messy bun, strands falling around her face. "Darling, you must go."

He growled deep in his throat, exposing the very tips of his large teeth. _"No. I cannot leave you here to suffer with what has happened. I promise, it will all be fine in time." _

She could understand what he was trying to say with that one low growl. "Please. Leave." She whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke his face. The lamplight reflected off of her wedding band on her left hand.

As her hand came into contact, the wolf winced and shrank back, lips pulled back in a grimace. She looked at her hand worriedly. The only thing she really noticed was the small silver ring. "Silver can hurt you, can't it?"

The beast tried to nod. _"That hurt like a bitch." _ He whined again, pain in his white eyes.

"If silver hurts you, it will hurt others like you. We can defend ourselves now, darling!" A flicker of joy spread across her features before fading back into the sadness and guilt and pain.

A furry ear turned to the sound of an approaching guard, looking for the beast. The woman leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on the wolf's nose, his eyes closing his contentment. "Go, now. I shall love you always." She whispered before retreating into the tent, leaving the wolf alone for a few seconds before the lantern of the guard could be seen on the ground. With a sigh, the beast slunk away, keeping away from the guards on patrol throughout the village.

* * *

-The Next Morning-

The sun crept over the horizon, the golden beams of light casting early morning shadows upon the camp. In the middle of one of the tent rows a middle aged man lay on the ground, unconscious and completely nude. He was face-down in the dirt, curled into a ball. His dirty blonde hair shone in the light as he remained unaware of his surroundings.

A pair of rough, gloved hands gripped him around his upper arms, pulling him to his feet, his head lolling on his shoulders. Someone slapped his face, the stinging action forcing him to wake up. His eyes blinked rapid, trying to make sense of the situation. He looked into the eyes of the guard before him, confusion and sorrow on his face. His dark green eyes were clouded with guilt, which wasn't uncommon for him anymore.

"Let's go, Hell spawn." The guard spat vehemently, yanking on his arms. A pair of trousers was given to the captured man, shackled placed on his wrists and ankles after the trousers were in place.

His head was held high as he was marched through the camp to the gallows. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as the object of his soon-to-be death loomed over him.

The villagers were gathered about the gallows, waiting for his death. He could see his wife and children standing in the front row, directly in front of the trap door. He knew the Council demanded this happen, so his family could always be reminded of the wrongs that he committed, although he wasn't sure how many crimes he had committed so far.

His bare feet made no sound on the wood planks as he went up the stairs and was made to stand still under the noose, just off the trap door. He looked up at the despised piece of twisted rope.

The slight murmuring of the crowd silenced as the Head of the Council stood on the side of the platform, a piece of parchment in his hands. He cleared his throat before reading.

"Today, on the 2nd day of May, we are gathered here to witness the prosecution and death of one man. Dean Winchester, you are hereby sentenced with the crimes of theft, murder, and satanic beliefs. By the power of God and all that is holy, the Council of the Village of Lawrence has decided that your crimes are punishable by sudden and immediate death.

As the Head of the Council, Uriel Bartholomew III, and with the power given to me by the state of Virginia, I sentence you to death by hanging from the neck until I declare you true and honestly dead." Uriel took a breath. "Do you have any last words?"

Dean looked down at his family, his beautiful family. His wife, Elisa, held onto the hands of his two youngest children, Joanna and Eleanor, and his oldest stood next to the youngest daughter. Samuel stood with his head up, meeting the gaze of his father. Elisa was openly crying, and it was obvious that she was struggling, trying not to cry out for him.

"I am not guilty, nor am I a Hell spawn as you claim that I am. " He said, his voice loud and clear, strong and proud even as he awaited his death. He stood under the noose, looking at his three children and his wife, not caring about anything else. He was more than willing to die for their safety than for him to continue living as he was.

"The Executioner will tighten the knot."

A tall, burly man walked up to Dean, pulling the noose down and fitting it to Dean's neck, He winced as the rough rope was tightened, starting to constrict his windpipe.

Elisa cried out as the Executioner moved over to the lever that would drop Dean through the door. "Wait, Lord Bartholomew, wait!"

Uriel cast an annoying look her way. "Speak woman." His tone made Dean grind his teeth in anger.

"I don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not, but he's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got. I'm begging you please, don't take that sinner from me."

An elderly woman in the crowd pushed her way forward and shoved a crooked finger in Elisa's chest. "That beast you call a man was raised from the edge of the Devil's backbone. He ain't nothing but trouble, and he's the offspring of Satan himself! He will bring our village to its death, and he will enjoy it!" She cackled, her voice growing louder as she spoke.

"There wasn't a wrong or a right he could chose, he did what he had to do." Elisa shouted back. "Give me the burden, give me the blame, I'll shoulder the load, and I'll swallow the shame. I swear to it, I will. Just don't kill him!"

Uriel stood, contemplating Elisa's pleads. A spark of hope shone in her eyes, and he smiled evilly. "This man has been sentenced to hang until dead, and so hang he shall!" Uriel looked at the Executioner, and nodded.

Time fell into slow-motion as the Execution threw the lever forward, opening the trap door. Dean's toes were still on the edge, and he teetered, fighting for balance. His eyes widened in shock, his face strained from the effort of staying alive.

Elisa gripped her children tighter, shielding the eyes of the girls. Samuel, the twelve year old son, stood, tears running down his face as he watched his father struggle to stay on the platform.

After a matter of mere seconds, Dean's balance slipped, sending him falling down towards the ground. The rope pulled taut as it was stretched to its max, abruptly stopping the sentenced man from reaching the ground.

The bones in his neck snapped loudly, making the crowd flinch. Dean's eyes were half-closed, his now-lifeless body spinning in circles as the rope started to settle with the sudden weight. Elisa screamed, a hand covering her mouth as tears fell freely, the children crying and screaming for their father.

Joanna, the middle child at 6 years old, was old enough that she knew what had happened, but still small enough that she could see underneath the platform without moving. The image she saw was burned into her brain, and would haunt her for the rest of her life...

She saw her father's bare feet swinging slowly back and forth, mere inches off the ground, his toes unmoving and already starting to turn blue. The dingy off-black of the iron shackled on his ankles clinked gently, slowing the swinging body faster, the chains dragging on the dirt.

After waiting for Dean's body to stop swinging, Uriel pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. A count of thirty passes with nothing, and Uriel smiled smugly. "This man is pronounced dead. The body will remain on the rope until sunrise tomorrow, to serve as a reminder to all the village that murder and theft are crimes punishable by death." He called out, staring at Elisa and the children as the crowd slowly dispersed to continue on with their day.

Uriel leaned over to close Dean's eyes, noticing how both eyes were still half-open. One eye was still the deep green they had always been, but the right eye was stopped in the transition phase of green to white-gold, the area around the pupil faded into a pale white-green, and flecks of gold covering the black of the pupil.

Uriel made a face of disgust as he decided against touching the freaky eyes.

* * *

-Sunset-

Elisa stood next to the gallows as the sun began to set, having sent the children to bed early. She watched as the fleeting rays of sunshine shadowed half of Dean's handsome face, and she couldn't help but notice the way Dean's lifeless continued to slowly change into the white-gold of the wolf. She smiled to herself, sending a prayer to Heaven, before heading back to the tent.

* * *

As the sun rose the next morning, the rays of light shone on the tents and the empty gallows, Dean Winchester's body nowhere to be found. The howl of a wolf struck fear into the hearts of the villagers as the sun crawled up over the mountains, sending away the darkness.

Inside her tent, Elisa smiled, holding a small piece of parchment in her hands.

_Once the transition begins, whether naturally or forced, the wolf will return again, even if the human body is sent into a state of death. _

Those few words gave her joy, as one last howl reverberated through the camp before the sun was fully exposed to the small valley.


End file.
